On the Shore of the Wide World

D+

2006 must have been a really dismal year for London theater if this tepid family drama by Simon Stephens could win the Olivier award. I will grudgingly express admiration to the Atlantic Theater for their commitment to bringing three of his plays to New York although I wasn’t too impressed with the other two -- Bluebird and Harper Regan — either. However, I liked them better than Punk Rock at MCC or Heisenberg at MTC. Even his Tony-winner The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time was an adaptation of someone else’s novel and owed a lot of its success to its brilliant staging. Therefore, I approached the present play with low expectations. They were met.  We meet three generations of the Holmes family of Stockport, the suburb of Manchester where Stephens grew up — grandparents Charlie (Peter Maloney) and Ellen (the always watchable Blair Brown), their son Peter (C.J. Wilson) and his wife Alice (Atlantic stalwart Mary McCann) and their two grandsons Alex (Ben Rosenfield) and Christopher (Wesley Zurick). There is also Alex’s girlfriend Sarah (Tedra Millan), his friend Paul (Odiseas Georgiadis), Peter’s client Susan (Amelia Workman) and Alice’s new friend John (Leroy McClain). We follow the Holmes family over the course of a year that is punctuated by tragedy. The play has a seemingly endless succession of short scenes that generated very little interest for me. I don’t require sympathetic characters, but I expect to feel some involvement which was lacking here. I looked at my watch often. There is lots of regret, missed opportunity and lack of communication. The fine cast, which struggles uncertainly with the accent, deserves better than this. The set design by Scott Park makes efficient use of space. Sarah Laux’s costumes are apt. Director Neil Pepe does his best with material that is basically inert. Running time: two hours 35 minutes including intermission. Seating advice: Avoid Row B at the Linda Gross Theater because it is not elevated above Row A.

Love, Love, Love *** B

Mike Bartlett’s (Cock, Bull, King Charles III) 2010 unflattering portrait of the British generation born around 1950 has arrived in New York at Roundabout’s Laura Pels Theatre. It follows a young self-absorbed couple over a 40+ year period. Kenneth (Richard Armitage) is freeloading in his hardworking older brother Henry’s (Alex Hurt) shabby London flat during his summer break from Oxford. When Henry brings home a date, the free-spirited Sandra (Amy Ryan), it does not turn out well for him. In the second act, set in a modern, attractive suburban home about 20 years later, Kenneth and Sandra have two teen-aged children — Rose (Zoe Kazan), a devoted violin student about to celebrate her 16th birthday and Jamie (Ben Rosenfield), a few years younger. It is clear that the couple feel hemmed in by their marriage and are not exactly model parents. In the final act, another 20 years later, we find Kenneth and Sandra in self-satisfied retirement while their adult children are floundering. The first act entertainingly sets up the central relationship. The second act, by far the most entertaining of the three, vividly shows how their situation has developed. The final act, alas, turns a bit polemical as Rose blames her parents and, by extension, their generation for her own problems. The dialog is sharp and the situations often amusing. You may cringe, but you’ll probably laugh. Amy Ryan is sensational, worth the price of admission. Richard Armitage and Zoe Kazan are also strong. Alex Hurt does his best with a one-note character and Ben Rosenfeld, with an underwritten one. The three distinct sets by Derek McClane and the period costumes by Susan Hilferty establish the time and place well. In the final act, more could have been done with makeup and wigs to make them look their age. Michael Mayer’s direction is assured and fluid. A few of the British references do not travel well. The ironic title comes from a Beatles lyric. If you appreciate fine acting and want to keep up with the works of an acclaimed contemporary playwright, you will probably find the play worthwhile. If you need sympathetic characters to identify with, you will probably not. Running time: 2 hours 5 minutes, including two intermissions.

The Nether **

After a highly acclaimed London run that included a West End transfer, Jennifer Haley’s mashup of a police procedural and a sci-fi story is now having its New York premiere in an MCC production at the Lucille Lortel Theatre. The Nether is what the internet has become in the near future, an online medium where virtual reality is the main attraction. Since trees have disappeared in the real world, even the sight of an online forest can offer comfort. Schools have been largely supplanted by interactive educational games. As on the internet, porn is an important part of The Nether. As the play opens Detective Morris (Merritt Wever) is interviewing Sims (Frank Wood), a man she suspects of operating a virtual realm called The Hideaway, a Victorian estate where avatars of pedophiles can anonymously have their way with children. One issue raised is whether, since the “children” are actually avatars of adults, there is anything immoral about it. The detective is also questioning Doyle (Peter Friedman), a school teacher in his 60’s who frequents The Hideaway, offering him immunity if he will provide evidence to nail Sims. We also meet Woodnut (Ben Rosenfield), an undercover agent sent to gather evidence, and, most notably, Iris (Sophia Anne Caruso), a nine-year old at The Hideaway, much favored both by “guests” and Papa (Sims’s avatar). There are some surprising developments. It all sounds more interesting than it turns out to be. After reading the ecstatic London reviews, I feel that the problem is a deeply flawed production. The set, by Laura Jellinek, concentrates on the drab interrogation room and merely gives us hints of The Hideaway’s charms, whereas in London the scenic design went to great lengths to show its seductive beauty. Another weakness, at least for me, is Wever’s performance, which I found monotonously off-putting. To see Peter Friedman and Frank Wood is, as always, a pleasure. Rosenfield is quite effective and Caruso is amazing. Jessica Pabst's costumes are excellent. Anne Kauffman’s direction did not pull things together for me. A botched opportunity. Most memorable line: “Don’t tell me that you never fucked an elf!” Running time: 75 minutes, no intermission.